Butterfly
by RejectedByBrianHolden
Summary: A day at the park can turn into a life-long friendship if you meet the right person. [Kid!Johnlock. Shameless, shameless fluff. One-shot.]


"John!" Mrs. Watson called nervously after her son, "John, be careful!"

The six-year-old continued to run haphazardly across the playground, his sister following behind. John stumbled, regained his balance, and tottered into the dark green field.

Collapsing on his knees in the grass, John looked back to his sister with a huge grin on his face. "Harry, hurry up!" he yelled, making his sister break into a run. Soon she fell to her knees as well next to her brother.

The sun was blazing overhead, heating John's small shoulders, making him feel content. He picked at the grass while Harry, who was now laying on her back, talked about what she saw in the brilliantly white and fluffy clouds in the sky.

John, after having made a pile of foliage in one of the pale purple folds of Harry's dress, yawned and laid down on his back next to his sister.

"Johnny!" her high voice giggled in his ear, "lookit!"

Harry pointed a pudgy finger at a passing insect. John looked at it lazily as its wings flapped by. "That's a flutterby, Harry," he said smartly.

"Actually," a new voice corrected, "it's a butterfly."

John propped himself up on his little elbows and looked around for the other boy who had spoken. Being corrected made John a bit irritated, and he huffed in annoyance when he spotted a boy, about his age, sitting against a nearby tree.

"Who're you?" John demanded. The boy looked up from the book in his lap and stared at John. Finally, he answered.

"Sherlock. M'name's Sherlock Holmes."

John sat up. Sherlock was a name he had never heard before. It sounded cool though. "Why are you reading? You should be having fun."

Sherlock closed his book. "I think reading's fun..." he said sheepishly.

John shot him a curious look before saying, "... That's cool, I guess." he shrugged. "D'you wanna come sit over here with us? You look lonely."

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. "O-ok," he said quickly, scrambling to his feet.

As Sherlock walked over to the siblings, John could finally see what he looked like clearer. Sherlock has springy, well-kept black curls that shot out in every direction framing his face nicely. His face was thin for a six-year-old, but his baby cheeks were still apparent. The boy was tall and gangly for his age, wearing a blue Doctor Who t-shirt and an expensive-looking pair of pants. As Sherlock sat next to John, John was surprised by Sherlock's silver eyes. They shone in an almost alien way when the sun beamed through them.

Harry had fallen asleep by John's side, her little fingers toying with a lock of her golden hair. John smiled adoringly at his four-year-old sister as she began sucking her thumb.

"I have a brother," Sherlock said quietly, looking at Harry with soft fondness, "but he's not cute like she is."

John looked back to Sherlock with a grin. "She's actually sorta annoying," he laughed.

Sherlock smiled too, making his sharp features look kinder. John cocked his little head and considered this. He laid back down and closed his bright blue eyes against the harsh sunlight. "You look nice when you smile," he said easily to Sherlock. "You should do it more often."

Sherlock blinked stupidly at John's suggestion. "... What's your name?" he asked softly. This park didn't seem like a place for loud noises, so the boys kept their voices low.

"John Watson."

The tall boy smiled again. "That's a pretty name."

John shook his head in contrast. "Nu uh. It's too plain and boring."

Sherlock looked down at John. "I would rather have a boring name. I get teased for mine," he muttered bitterly.

John frowned and his forehead creased. That bothered him for some reason. "That's super dumb," he spat. _"They're _super dumb._"_

The boy next to him hummed in agreement and stared down at his little hands sadly.

John cracked open an eye when he noticed Sherlock's upset silence. He paused and thought of a way to cheer his new friend up. "Sherlock," he smiled, "look at this cloud."

Sherlock squinted up at the sky and moved so that he was laying next to John.

Raising a hand to point out the specific cloud, John said, "It looks like two people holding hands."

Sherlock, who had identified the cloud type immediately upon seeing them, finally found the cloud John was talking about. He smiled. "It does."

The blonde boy paused. Propping his head up on his hand, John hesitantly asked, "H-Have you ever held someone's hand, Sherlock?"

Sherlock kept his strangely-colored eyes trained to the cloud formation. "You mean like my nanny or my mum?"

John shook his head.

"Well... No, I haven't," Sherlock replied thoughtfully. "Have you?" he countered.

John shook his head again and whispered, "No."

Sherlock tossed John a sideways glance from the corner of his eyes.

"You can... You can hold _my _hand if you want," John said sheepishly.

Sherlock smiled lightly again. "Ok." He reached over and hesitantly took John's small hand in his.

They laid in the grass in silence for a few minutes, marveling at how strange it felt to hold someones hand. Sherlock noticed how soft John's hand was. John noticed how nicely their hands fit together.

The dark-haired boy grinned and pointed out another cloud creation with his free hand. John tilted his head until he saw it too, and he laughed. He found one as well and showed it to Sherlock.

An hour later, John asked, "Sherlock, what do you wanna be when you grow up?"

Sherlock grinned madly. "A pirate!"

John laughed. Sherlock was so strange. John liked it. "I wanna be a doctor."

"You could be my ships doctor. For sword wounds and stuff."

John nodded seriously.

This went on until the midday light turned the sky pink. Sherlock and John had sat around for hours talking, looking out clouds and birds. John listened with interest as Sherlock supplied facts about the things they saw, calculating things and noticing stuff John would have never saw. It always made John smile at Sherlock's smartness when he did that. Sherlock had read to John, and in return, John made up a story about Sherlock's life as a pirate. The pink light left the sky and the clouds turned purple in the twilight. Sherlock yawned and closed his eyes, still holding John's hand tightly. John squeezed Sherlock's hand and smiled, deciding that their hands _did _in fact fit perfectly together. That must mean they would be friends for_ever._


End file.
